


emotional mirage

by skechers_light_ups



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Angst, Dangan Ronpa - Freeform, Dangan Ronpa Spoilers, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Oma Kokichi/Saihara Shuichi, Eventual Relationships, Eventual Romance, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minor Akamatsu Kaede/Saihara Shuichi, Minor Character Death, Multi, New Dangan Ronpa V3 Spoilers, Oma Kokichi/Saihara Shuichi-centric, Post-Canon, Post-Despair, Post-Despair (Dangan Ronpa), Saihara Shuichi-centric, danganronpa - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-27
Updated: 2020-07-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:54:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25544695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skechers_light_ups/pseuds/skechers_light_ups
Summary: It's life past the killing game.Saihara finds himself and the 15 others from the game cooped up in a town dubbed, "Hope's Peak Township" - to them, at least.  To everyone else, the rain-soaked village is known as "Hope's Peak Research Facility".What could go wrong?Saihara is going through it, to say the least, and now he has to navigate through the humdrums of life, just hoping not to have to bring on something big again... though, there's a larger concern that arises when he goes back outside of town for a case.
Relationships: Akamatsu Kaede/Saihara Shuichi, Harukawa Maki/Momota Kaito, Oma Kokichi/Saihara Shuichi
Kudos: 19





	emotional mirage

_The night’s still young, there’s still time,_ the young detective’s mind was filled with trivial thoughts that caused his focus to shift to anything except his work. He was fighting the deadline, though time was running out so fast that he no longer wanted to push on. He set the fountain pen back in the cup with the rest, focusing on the flickering, orange-tinted light in the corner of the room, grumbling to himself under his breath.

“Maybe I should head into town?” He finally spoke something coherent.

He grabbed the hat from the corner of his desk and slipped it onto his head seamlessly, as he’d done it a million times before, and stood. The chair skidded behind him with an unsatisfactory sound as his slim legs pushed it back, and the male nearly physically cringed as it rippled from the crooks of his knees to all throughout his body. His shoes clicked on the dark hardwood floor as he picked up his pinstriped top, putting it on over the black tank he’d usually find himself dressed in when alone at home. 

When he was heading out, he noticed most of the lights in the house were off, and wandered around a bit to see if his uncle was still awake. He was, much to Saihara’s dismay, because he had to take five or ten minutes to explain what he was doing and where he was going. When he finally gave a parting wave and goodbye to the older man, he pulled the hat further forward to cover his eyes, and left through the front door. He also noted that the ground was wet and the dirt was mushy, so it must’ve been raining at some point along the line. Maybe my music prevented me from hearing?

As he roamed the nighttime streets, he started paying attention to the architecture for likely the first time after seeing a building in the process of being erected. This place looks more like England than it does Japan. His eyes trailed around as he looked at the place he’d supposedly lived his whole life after his parents abandoned him, while he still didn’t have memories from before the killing game of Saishuu Gakuen, frankly, he didn’t want them; judging from the way people looked at him, he probably wasn’t a good person. He just wanted to know what he ever did so wrong.

“I joined Dangan Ronpa because I didn’t want you to go alone, apparently!” The quote from none other than Kokichi Ouma rang in his head, and even the voice made him smile dopily. He didn’t know what about the boy made Saihara think about him so much, but it had to be for a reason, right?

It feels like it's everything about him. It’s all so… interesting? He’s complex.

His thoughts were cut off as he felt a hand lay a harsh slap onto his bony spine, which caused him to jolt forward and take a sharp breath in. He fearfully looked back, until he realized who it was—Kaito Momota.

“Ah, uh, nii-san!” Saihara greeted him with a nod of his head.

“Hey, sidekick! What are you doing out this late?” Kaito raised a hand to the back of his own neck, the other hand rested on his hip. “Actually, what are you doing out at all?”

“I w-was just taking a walk, I needed some fresh air… I couldn’t focus anymore, it's b-been getting so stuffy in my room lately.” Saihara thought aloud. “Or… or maybe it’s just me?”

“Akamatsu-chan thought you were undeniably hot!” He elbowed Saihara.

“Yeah, but she’s with someone else now.” He let out a sigh. “I-I never had a chance with her anyways, even if I’d tried.”

“Awh, come on, man. Don’t be bitter! Don’t you have a thing for Ouma-kun, anyways?”

“Wh- no! Not even close!” Saihara shook his head aggressively.

“Yeah, whatever. He likes Yumeno-chan anyways, right?”

“What? Y-You seriously couldn’t tell that it was a lie? He’s gay, Momota.”

Momota whimpered like a little puppy. “Gimme a break, that guy’s all over the place all the time!”

“I-I find it kind of fun to decipher his lies.” Saihara picked his phone out of his pants pocket after getting a notification.

**_Hope fragment acquired!_**

Saihara stared at it for a moment and looked over to Momota’s phone, which had the same amount of hope fragments for him, which just confirmed that there wasn’t a mistake in the system. He was hoping that it’d be faulty so that they could quit it, but Naegi had been forcing them to go through with the program to breed hope in the students of the new academy. Personally, the young detective found it to be repetitive and stupid, not to mention a time waster. None of his interactions mattered, and whenever he followed the train of thought, he always came to the conclusion that nothing mattered and he’d never truly get anywhere in life, as well as the fact that he’s a lousy detective and an even lousier ultimate. 

These thoughts brought along even physical strain, as he found his stomach had begun to fill with dread, sickness, and guilt. Someone so much better could take his place, but here he was, standing among a town filled to the brim with talented people, and talented people only. He hated it. He wished he lived in a normal place, not this closed-off English-esque empty town that could hardly be called a town in Saihara’s book. It was too empty, too eerie, too much for him. He knew everyone too well, and thank the gods that he was able to leave to do work on cases, even if he, in his opinion, did them shoddily at best. He usually brought back souvenirs using the endless amounts of money that Hope’s Peak apparently had. Even if he wasn’t even out of the prefecture, it was something remarkable to have been let out of this fake happy place.

“Hey, otouto, were you even listening to me?” Momota asked, waving a hand in front of Saihara’s face, between the boy and his phone.

“...huh? Oh, y-yeah, no, uh—-”

“Of course you weren’t… why did I expect anything different?” He let out a chuckle to wash away the true brashness of what he’d just said, and Saihara just tittered awkwardly along with him. 

“S-Sorry…” Saihara apologized, rubbing the back of his neck. 

“It’s whatever.” Momota waved a hand dismissively. 

~☔️🌴☔️~

The walk was filled by talking before Momota had departed to his destination and Saihara was sent along on his own. It was mostly Momota rambling on about something Saihara didn’t particularly care about, and couldn’t find himself being very interested in, so he mainly tuned Momota out until he heard that a question would be inevitable, tuning in for only context to said question. He knew it was rude, but he wasn’t expecting any interaction at two in the morning while he was trying to take a break from the stress. Though, when he arrived at his own destination, he stared up at the house with the knowledge that it’d cause him more stress than being around Momota. _I guess I’m just an idiot like that._

He sighed at the thought that he could’ve stayed with Momota instead, but he was already here, so he couldn’t turn back. It was his own self that put him at the doorstep of Ouma’s household. He reached out to knock, but hesitated. What if he were to knock too hard, or too soft, or too slow and seem suspicious? He shook his head, knowing Akamatsu would be disappointed if he didn’t talk to someone for as irrational of a reason as such. He knocked three times, gently but quickly, and immediately retracted his hand to fold with the other in front of him. The metal door was cold against his bony knuckles, and he started anticipantly at the equally as cold, if not colder, doorknob, ears perking a bit as he heard footsteps and the said knob jiggle.

When it swung open, a smaller figure could be seen in Saihara’s view, who he promptly looked down at. Behind Ouma was an unlit hallway with shoes scattered about that he had nearly tripped over several times, every time he went to get the door. In the middle of the left wall was an arch doorway leading to the dining room and past that the kitchen connected, and at the end of the hall was the lounge room with a sofa, table, and a TV with an entertainment center. Saihara could just barely make out the shapes, mainly from the glint of the outside light on the wood of the entertainment center and the glare on the TV itself. He could barely see the table and sofa from the sofa’s leather texture, and just barely could see the wooden and glass table poking out from the sides. 

“Yes? What do you need, my beloved Saihara-chan?” Ouma tilted his head a bit to the side, as if he were feigning a sort of innocence. He was.

“Ah, uhm, I came to ask if you’re going to the ball this Saturday?” Saihara stated in reply, though his tone made it sound more like a question than a statement.

Ouma passed a side glance at the tuxedo about a foot behind him, hanging on the right wall, and shook his head. “What makes you think I’d go to something as boring and dumb as that? Of course not!”

“That’s a lie, right?” The taller male found himself hoping that it’d be a lie, nervous even though he knew it was one. As if he had a wish, a dream to go to the ball with Ouma.

“Awwh, yeah, you caught me!” 

Saihara let out a gentle sigh of relief and nodded, as if he’d been holding his breath the entire time. Now was his chance to ask Ouma to the ball… but, he choked. 

_What if Ouma-kun doesn’t want to go to the dance with me? What if he doesn’t actually like me like that? What if he’s going with someone else? What if he’s been lying about liking guys this whole time? What if he’s been lying about everything?_

“Ah, alright… I’ll see you there, then, I guess…” He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. 

“Whaaat, are you really not gonna ask me to the ball?”

“Well, I was just—-”

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding! You get worked up way too easily, Saihara-chan!” Ouma laughed his usual childish laugh.

“Yeah, whatever…” He shook his head a bit, trying to shake it off. Though, he couldn’t help but smile; he loved Ouma’s childishness and tirelessness, and saw the boy as the most complicated case in the world, yet he was so determined to solve it. He wouldn’t back down until he had him solved completely… Ouma was one of the very few things that made his life so much more colorful, so much less mundane and exhausting. While it brought him great exhaustion to be around a lot of the other students outside of his small friend group, being around Ouma charged his social battery, and he knew with every beat of his heart that the purple-haired proclaimed bastard had a good side to him. Thinking about the day that the other participants woke up from the simulation always broke Saihara’s heart more and more every time.

**“Saihara-chan, it hurts… it hurt so bad…” Ouma cried, being held in Saihara’s arms. He was shaking, as tense as his body could let him, sobbing violently into the taller male’s shoulder.**

**“It’s okay, Ouma-kun, it's over now… you’re alright…” Saihara tried his best to comfort the boy that was latched onto him, but he was on the brink of breaking down as well. He couldn’t even begin to imagine what being crushed under a press felt like, but he did know what the pain of watching all of his friends get picked off felt like… and when he learned Ouma’s true intentions, and finally thought about the way Ouma acted, he wore a melancholic smile knowing that it wasn’t a true goodbye. There was always hope within him that wished—knew—that it’d turn out just fine. He lived by that… most of the time.**

**“I can’t even look at the ceiling… it feels like everything is closing in on me… please, please don’t let me get hurt again!” He balled the cloth of Saihara’s clothing in his hands tight, desperate.**

**Later on Saihara had learned that, upon the survivors being brought in, several people calmed down tremendously. Upon seeing Yumeno, Chabashira was immediately joyous. Yonaga’s mood would’ve changed, but she was happy to begin with, which Saihara always thought was creepy. She was beyond just being hopeful, her constant happiness felt eerie and cult-like. Upon seeing Harukawa, Momota held her protectively and slowly scooted out of the room with her. Though Ouma was still completely horrified and processing the trauma, it was the most significant difference. He went from complete silence and wishing silently for the reaper to come, practically acting dead in the hopes that he would actually be, to blowing off steam and trying to cope with the pain.**

**“You’re not alone, Ouma-kun. It’s okay.”**

Saihara had always wondered if Ouma thought that he was truly alone. Ouma got bashed so often and told that he’d die alone so many times that the detective found it to be quite ridiculous. He was viewed as characteristically “evil”, but in reality, he was just a prankster, a bored kid trying to have fun. Even if he did say a lot of unnecessary and rude things, it wasn’t enough to warrant people like Harukawa telling him to kill himself. There was a very fine line, and it was crossed a long time ago… and most of the things Ouma did during the killing game were for a good reason. Saihara felt like the only person who saw that, and who saw Ouma’s true potential. 

“So, what, is that all you’re here for?” Ouma tilted his head. “Boring!”

_Boring._ The worst thing he could be to Ouma. “Ah, n-no! Er, well, uh—-” Saihara paused, taking a moment to try to formulate a sentence in his head. “W-Well, uh, do you wanna hang out later after I finish this thesis?” For someone who knew he wasn’t going to finish it, he sounded fairly certain, which certainty in general was unusual for him.

Ouma brushed off the unwavering tone, as if Saihara had been planning to say that for a long time, and nodded. “Yeah, sure! Where are ya gonna take me?”

“Oh, uhm… actually, I-I don’t know…” Saihara shook his head, disappointed in himself for not really coming with a plan. “Whatever you wanna do is fine by me.”

“Awwh, what, did Saihara-chan come without a plan? That’s pathetic!~” Ouma laughed. “Just kidding! You wanna watch a movie or something?”

Even though he knew it was just another one of Ouma’s jokes, it did hurt Saihara. He usually wasn’t too affected by other’s words after the killing game, but when it came from someone like him… it felt like it was a punch of the heart every time. “Sure, that sounds nice…”

~🍱🧊🍱~

With the gentle weight of Ouma on his shoulder, it merely served as a reminder of his lingering feelings for someone else. Akamatsu. He remembered all the time they’d spent together, how close they’d grown in such a short amount of time, he felt as if they were soulmates… but she was gone as soon as she came, and he just wished he’d said “I love you” sooner. Maybe it’d have been different if that happened… maybe, just maybe, he could’ve saved someone, Akamatsu or not. The pain of seeing her be dragged away was immeasurable, something he couldn’t even begin to describe. He noticed his breathing become shaky as he relived the moment in his head. 

Saihara gulped down thickly, shaking his head to himself, eyes shutting for a moment before he stood up, not allowing Ouma to see his face. He genuinely wished he had his hat, he didn’t want someone he cared about so much to see him in such a terrible position. He was still trying to figure everything out, and to have his confusion on top of him, it was just the breaking point. He felt like he was going to vomit, nearly gagging into his hand, breaking out into a cold sweat. He was already headed for the bathroom, having been here a few times. “I- I need a second…” He mustered, leaving before quick-thinking Ouma could conjure a response in his thoughts.

He shut the door very gently, letting the parts slip together to keep it closed, and then dropped to the floor with a thud louder than he’d intended. It was less of him dropping, and more of a collapse, an inability to stand, a need to curl up and sob. He sat on the floor, gripping the collar of his pinstriped top desperately, leaning against the wall. His eyes darted around the surprisingly simple room, subconsciously trying to find something to help… but there was nothing. He knew, or thought, that Ouma couldn’t help.

The young man fell in love with Akamatsu, and it wasn’t shallow fairy tale love or just dating; they had some sort of unspoken passion that was centered in the heart, and that’s exactly where it hit when she died. He brought a shaky hand up to the side of his face, letting out a sob, his chest rising and falling unevenly with pauses in the middle of breaths and Saihara generally choking up, sometimes struggling to breathe. At a point where he nearly choked, he cupped his hand over his mouth in a futile attempt to not breathe or cry… he thought he could make it through this without doing anything or making a sound, but he was terribly wrong. His eyes squinted as tears poured over the edge, dripping down his face in an attempt at relief. Saihara’s head became pained as the tears didn’t exactly help anything, feeling an odd tightness as if a metal chain had been wrapped around his forehead and yanked on to become as tight as possible. 

The moments kept replaying in his head. All of the body discoveries, closing arguments and anxious thoughts running through his head, and all of the matching executions… it hurt. Even though it was all fake, all of their emotions, the pains they felt… were real. It had an effect on everyone when they were let back into the world—not the world, the fake town they were put in. It was hardly even a town, more so just a housing district, and that was the extent of it save for a few other buildings like a coffee shop or movie theater. He was trying to force himself to swallow the saliva that built up occasionally in his mouth, and yet, it wasn’t good enough. His throat was still dry and pained, tight as he tried to hold everything in, trembling worse because of this. 

His eyes continued to dart around, still in the midst of processing everything that happened at the Saishuu Gakuen. This was the worst time for it to happen. He had to hold it together, not for himself, but for Ouma, and the others; though right now, he was in Ouma’s house. Having been shown what it’d look like under the hydraulic press after the small boy had been crushed drove him mad, especially at a time like this… just what Monokuma had intended when showing it to him. 

He felt bile trying to crawl into his mouth, searing and stinging like a bunch of tiny knives stabbing into the walls of his throat. He finally tried to take a deep breath in, trying not to cough or puke, even though it was evident that Ouma likely already knew what was going on. A light sob came up, and that’s when he hit the breaking point harder than a car with a drunk driver crashing into the corner of a building and practically getting the car torn in half. He raised his hands to cup over his entire face, sobbing into them, just wishing to get a grip on everything—but he knew that couldn’t happen. In the moment, it was as if all hope and light bled away. He couldn’t handle this anymore. Maybe spending time with Akamatsu would be a better idea, but he hated the thought of that. Leaving Ouma in the dust, and for a reason that would, out loud, sound like it was because he liked Akamatsu better. That wasn’t the case. He loved them both with all of his heart, but… he needed uplifting and someone to push him in the right direction, and he knew that Akamatsu could do that for him. 

After he’d finally stuffed his emotions into a bag, Saihara pulled himself to his feet forcefully, staring in the mirror and trying to get a better grip on reality. He splashed his face with water and sighed, leaving the bathroom.

“I-I’m sorry to cut things short, Ouma-kun,” he piped up, voice wobbly, “but, I uhm, I have to go… I can’t take being here.” He balled up his fists by his sides, shaking his head.

“Huh? What, does Saihara-chan suddenly not like me anymore?~” Ouma teased in reply.

“I… that’s just the problem, I do still like you.” Saihara murmured breathily, making his way for the door.

“Wait, Saihara-chan!” The purple boy called. “Don’t leave me, that’s so mean!”

Saihara clamped up for a second, almost debating turning back. Though, he knew the tears weren’t fake, just placed conveniently for Ouma. He considered going back, but it’d be better for both of them if he just left. Ouma would let out his bottled up emotions while trying to get Saihara to say, and Saihara would leave anyways… that was how Saihara intended it to go, at least, but he was very wrong.

He shook his head. “I’m leaving.”

There were the crocodile tears from Ouma. He let out a cry. “You’re heartless, Saihara-chan! I’ve done nothing but love you!”

“S-Stop! Stop it!” Saihara begged desperately. It hurt him now that he’d started to figure Ouma out. He felt tears fill his eyes again, and he refused to face the boy. 

“D-Don’t tell me what to do, y-you monster!” 

“I’m not- I- you’re lying!”

Ouma’s expression fell flat, but there were still tears running down his face. “Of course I am! You know, ‘cause I’m a liar?” 

Saihara let out an audible, shaky breath. “I’m not d-doing this! I’m not dealing with your games right now, Ouma-kun!” He turned around, tears running down his face. “Please, just let me go, give me a b-break!”

The door thudded shut. Pure, unfiltered misery filled Ouma’s eyes… but he’d fix this, no matter what the cost.


End file.
